


The Crown

by gingerchangeling



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 22:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16207409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerchangeling/pseuds/gingerchangeling
Summary: Attending a Renaissance Faire is not Emma's Swan's idea of good time. But there may be someone who could change her mind.





	The Crown

Of all the weird ways she had spent Saturdays during her adult life, Emma was certain that this one was the weirdest. And it was entirely Henry's fault. Well…. Henry and Mary Margaret's fault. …. And David wasn’t blameless in the whole thing, either.

Because somehow Henry had roped Mary Margaret and David into teaming up against her. And now here she was.

At the Renaissance Faire.

 

Henry had heard about it from someone in his class, and her kid, being the absolute nerd that he was, had come home that night and immediately informed her that going to the Faire was all he wanted for his birthday.

And while he presented a compelling argument on his own, she had hesitated, and he had called in the cavalry. Although she had to hand it to Henry. His nerdiness may have been learned from David. But his subtlety?

All her.

He had let it lay for a couple weeks until one night when Mary Margaret had one of her nesting swings and needed to be absolutely sure that both Emma and Henry were being fed proper home cooked meals fit to present at Thanksgiving dinner. She and David had invited themselves over, and they were sitting around the table eating obscenely delicious mac-n-cheese, mashed potatoes, turkey, and because both of her best friends were absolute freaks of nature, cranberry sauce.

Emma was in the midst of shoveling a second helping of mac-n-cheese onto her plate with her mouth still full of mash potatoes when Henry made his move.

“You know, I think that this is exactly what I want to eat for my birthday dinner, Mary Margaret.” First, move the pawn.

Mary Margaret looked at him surprised, “Birthday dinner?”

Henry nodded, “Yeah its a meal eaten on the day that celebrates my birth. You may have heard of it before.” A rook as a distraction.

David snorted. Emma managed to swallow her mouthful without choking, “Henry don’t be facetious. It’s rude.” Knight takes rook.

Henry bowed his head contritely, “Sorry Mary Margaret.” Move another pawn forward.

She smiled at him, “It’s fine Henry. Thank you for your apology. I accept. Going back to what you said. I was simply surprised that you were planning for your birthday already. Isn’t it still a month away?” His bishop.

Henry nodded, and said casually, “Yeah, but thirteen is an important number. I’m turning into a teenager. I got to make it count.” His queen.

But something about his casual tone seemed almost… _too_ casual to Emma. She stopped eating to inspect her son, who was acting for all the world like nothing of interest was going on.

And then Mary Margaret had asked the question that made everything click.

“So do you have an idea of what you want to do on your birthday then?”

Checkmate.

Emma could actually feel Henry's smugness as he answered, “Oh well I did have one idea….”

“Oh? What was it?”

“I really wanted to go to the Renaissance Faire this year.”

Emma actually narrowed her eyes at Henry and her son had the audacity to look back with a knowing smile as Mary Margaret gasped.

“Oh how fun! I think that’s a great idea! Don’t you think so David?”

Emma turned away from her little shit of a son to look at her dearest and oldest friend.

 

Emma had met David while she was in prison. He had been a volunteer from the college nearby and for some reason, he was one of the few people she didn’t mind having around. So when she got out of jail, he was there to help her get herself back on her feet.

She ran at one point, the wounds too fresh and the pain too much, taking Henry and leaving without a word. She had made enough to buy a beat up old Bug, and she strapped Henry in and drove. A week and a half later, she’d found herself in a quiet town in Maine, being bullied by a young pixie-haired woman into her loft, and hot cocoa forced into her hands.

Three weeks later, David showed up at the door. Mary Margaret, once she had strong armed Emma into her home and into a real bed, had looked up Emma’s emergency contact and called him. He’d moved two days later, but kept to himself, giving Emma the space he knew she needed.

He was good at that. Waiting and watching. Reading the signs.  

After he thought she’d had enough time, he came to bring her to his apartment. And Emma got to witness the first time Mary Margaret and David met face to face. She still jokes that there is a stain on the floor just outside her door from where David melted into a puddle of goo.

Within a year, Emma and Henry were living by themselves in the apartment David had gotten as David had moved into Mary Margaret’s. And that was it. Emma stayed and David stayed and she found the family she always wanted.

 

And now the one that had given her the push she needed to have that family was eyeing her with a smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow. She knew that face. It was the patented David Nolan BBG- big brother grin. And it usually meant that he was about to do something that was really going to irritate her. Just because he could.

“The Renaissance Faire huh?” he asked, tilting his head towards Mary Margaret and Henry. Mary Margaret eagerly watched her husband’s face. “Yeah I think that might actually sound like a lot of fun.”

Henry let out a whoop, and Mary Margaret pulled his collar towards her to give him a big sloppy kiss. As he sat back from being accosted by his wife, David sent her a wink. He was lucky he didn’t live with her anymore.  

 

And here she was. Dressed in some ridiculous get up that Henry had guilted her into and staring at…. Well she wasn’t exactly sure how to describe it.

There were people dressed in jeans and tanks tops, laughing and taking selfies. And there were also people……

“Are those guys dressed as Vikings? In this heat?”

Henry was eyeing a group of guys wearing thick furs and thicker leather armor underneath. Emma could even see the glinting of ….. was that chain-mail? Seriously?

Emma shook her head. It was close to a hundred degrees, the air was stifling, and Mary Margaret had insisted that wearing a corset would be such a great idea. She could actually feel her skin melting in the ridiculous outfit she was in. The green linen dress was airy enough, but the goddamn leather corset and shoulder pads were just ridiculous. The only concession that Mary Margaret had made was Emma was allowed to wear a sword she’d bought on a drunken whim missing Henry while he was at ‘Pirate Camp’ a few years before.

At least David looked equally as uncomfortable in the outfit he was in, his doublet and breeches were made of thick embroidered velvet. It had amused her endlessly when she had asked him why he had the outfit, he had muttered something about not being nosy and walked off. Henry had been gifted with a light linen tunic and pants.

But Emma couldn’t help but shake her her head at Mary Margaret’s outfit. A full flowing ball gown with intricate stitch-work seemed to float above the dirt as she walked. She really looked a queen. And Emma could not understand how the woman had not melted yet.

Henry didn’t seem to want an answer to his question about the identity of the furred and chain-mailed men, because the next moment he was tugging Emma towards the entrance line.

In short order, their bags had been checked and their weapons zip-tied and they were in. Emma walked in amazement as they made their way into the Faire.

Tents lined the hard packed path. Most of the first ones were filled with people drinking, merrily calling out compliments and comments to passersby. As they got a little deeper in, the tents intended to set the scene transitioned into market tents.

Henry was going to explode with excitement.

“MOM DO YOU SEE THIS OH MY GOD THIS IS SO COOL. AND THAT OVER THERE! DUDE THIS IS COOL!” He bobbed in and out of the crowd, dodging drunken characters on a pub crawl through the Faire, families meandering, and friends daring each other to try the samples at the _Ye Old Garlic Fart_ bread dip booth.  

Emma couldn’t help but allow Henry’s absolute joy to fill her with enjoyment as well. And when David vanished then reappeared with a shot of something she immediately tossed back, she found herself actually starting to appreciate all the guys walking around in super tight outfits.

It was as Henry was standing enamored with a falconry show that Emma saw it.

The crown.

A beautiful piece of bronze and silver, no jewels or extra ornamentation, that she could just picture sitting atop her head. She could almost feel the weight of it settling on her hair

Not wanting to attract the attention of the others so she didn’t have to deal with their questions, she casually made her way over to the booth. The wooden sign hanging above the tent said that the store was _The Jolly Roger’s Hold_.

There were numerous crowns and tiaras, all really well made. Some were set with jewels or pearls, while others had beads dangling down.

But she only had eyes for the simple bronze and silver one sitting in one of the displays off on the side of the tent. She stood there for several minutes, just studying the beautiful craftsmanship of the piece. She wanted to pick it up and try it on, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It wasn’t like she was going to buy it. She was only here for Henry.

She shook her head and was about to turn around, when a voice came from right behind her.

“You should try it on love.”

She stiffened in surprise, turning around, a scowl on her face, ready to berate the man for sneaking up on her and calling her _love,_ but the words died in her mouth.

The man who stood before her was dressed in simple garb, black leather pants tucked into black leather boots, and a simple white linen tunic belted at his waist, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and the neck hanging open. And the most handsome face she had ever seen in person.

Black hair flopped down into crystal blue eyes, and a well stubbled chin framed perfectly formed lips. Dark chest hair showed from his open collar, a tempting shine coating his skin from the summer heat. Strong forearms sat crossed over his chest. It was actually ridiculous how hot he was.

She cleared her throat, trying to recover herself. “Oh um, thank you, but I’m alright. It just caught my eye, that was all.”

His eyes twinkled as a gentle smile curved his lips and formed a dimple in his cheek. “It’s amazing how that happens sometimes. You can look at a thing and just...know that it was meant for you.”

Emma flushed at his words, but refused to let it get to her, “You use that line on all the customers?”

His eyebrow jumped up and his gentle smile took on a more dangerous edge, “Oh no love,” he murmured, stepping a little bit closer. “It takes a very special kind of person to get my personal...services.”

He leaned forward, and Emma stiffened, thinking that he might actually be daring enough to try and kiss her after a line like that. And then stiffened further when she realized she was looking at his lips, not entirely opposed to the idea.

When he was just a hair’s breadth away from her, he hesitated for just a moment before leaning back, leaving her flustered and confused. Then he held up the crown she’d been looking at, and she realized he had been reaching around her to grab it, and she flushed again this time in irritation. He was messing with her.

“What do you say love? Want to give it a try?”

But her resolve had returned and she could hear the applause from the ending of the show.

She took a step back, giving into her irritation and shooting him a glare, “No thanks. I need to go.” As she turned away though, she didn’t miss his face falling or the confusion pulling his brows low, the crown still sitting in his hands, as if waiting to crown her his queen.

She shook her head at herself. It was the heat, and the drink David had gotten her going to her head. He was probably just used to using his pretty face to sell his wares and was disappointed he wasn’t successful. She resolved to put both him and his crown out of her mind. She was here for Henry. That was it.

Emma managed to sneak back across the path to where the others were standing without them noticing her absence, and a moment later, Henry came bouncing over, regaling her with his plans for what he wanted to see next.

As they continued deeper into the Faire, Emma did manage to put the crown and the man holding it out of her mind, the people and the booths offering suitable distractions.

Mary Margaret wandered into a booth selling handmade jewelry, while David examined a coin press making custom stamped coins a little further on. Henry was staring at a small, hand-crafted, leather bound book with such longing she thought he might start drooling.

When one of the “town criers” announced a combat show, Henry gave one more mournful look at the book before he gathered his excitement again and dashed off to watch the show, David eagerly keeping step with him.

“You know, sometimes I wonder who is the child of the two of them,” muttered Mary Margaret as she joined Emma at the leather crafts booth. “You going to get it for him?” she nodded to the book Emma had picked up the moment Henry had vanished from sight.

Emma sighed, “Of course I am. He never asks for anything and it’s his birthday. He didn’t even get to unwrap anything this year.”

Mary Margaret laughed, before turning a look on Emma.

Emma caught her friend's expression, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you just disappearing?”

Emma’s eyes widened, “Um, yeah, kind of?”

Mary Margaret shook her head with an affectionate smile, “Emma, of course I would notice. You were standing over that crown for like five minutes, drooling.”

Emma turned pink as the memory of what happened rushed back to her, “And um…. Did you see anything…. _Else_?”

Maybe Henry hadn’t gotten his subtlety from her.

Mary Margaret raised an amused brow at her, “You mean did I see you eye fuck the guy running the booth while your underwear melted off?”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma was shocked at her friends coarseness. The woman was usually so demure about things like that, trying to euphemize or imply rather than outright state anything remotely sexual. It always made girls night entertaining. She and Ruby had a running tally sheet of all the ways Mary Margaret avoided saying the word sex out loud.

But her friend seemed unphased, “Was that not what happened?”

Emma had to drop her eyes from her friend, pretending to examine the book she was holding as she recalled his smell and the wash of heat when he had leaned inward.

“.... Kinda, Yeah. I guess,” she mumbled.

Mary Margaret gave a small tsk, “Then why didn’t you do what you wanted?”

Emma looked back up at her friend, the irritation from earlier returning in full force. “Because I’ve been there and done that. He was just using his looks to sell things. And besides, I have Henry to think about. I’m not gonna go gallivanting off with some pretty boy because my hormones have decided that my dry spell has been too long.”

But Mary Margaret’s reaction was not what she was expecting. The woman just smirked at her, “I meant, why didn’t you buy the crown like you wanted?”

“Oh. Um, because I don’t need a crown. And it’s Henry’s birthday, not mine. I’m here for him.” She held up the book to remind Mary Margaret of the fact.  

Mary Margaret just scoffed, “When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

Emma blinked, “What?”

“You use Henry as an excuse anytime you feel even remotely like you want something for yourself. It’s like you use him to remind yourself of what happened with Neal. You didn’t do anything wrong, then or now. You were underage. He wasn’t. He manipulated you from the moment you met. Stop using what he did to you as an excuse to believe that you don’t deserve to be happy. You DO deserve to be happy. You are just as-”

“Enough Mary Margaret.”

Emma’s tone was cool and level, but inside she was seething - Because she knew, deep down, that Mary Margaret was right, she just didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be faced with that truth.

Mary Margaret's mouth snapped shut. Emma didn’t wait to see if her friend would say more, instead going to the teller at the back of the tent to purchase the book, only wincing a little bit at the price.

When she came out, she expected Mary Margaret to continue, but she just motioned across the the path towards the stage, “The boys are over there.”

Emma eyed her for a moment, but Mary Margaret just started walking, so Emma followed her. When they found the boys close to the stage, both cheering loudly, David looked at  them both curiously but didn’t say anything.

The show concluded and the group moved on, wandering through the Faire until they reached the very end, a large dirt packed area with fencing and some stands creating a small stadium like enclosure.

“What’s this for?” asked Henry, looking around. And almost as soon as the question left this mouth, another town crier shouted from behind them.

“HEAR YE HEAR YE. ALL THOSE GENTLE LADIES AND LORDS ARE HEREBY INVITED TO WATCH THE GREAT TOURNAMENT TO BE HELD HEREIN. GREAT SPECTACLES OF STRENGTH AND COURAGE WILL BE SHOWN AS OUR CHAMPIONS JOUST AND ENGAGE IN HAND TO HAND COMBAT TO WIN THE HONOR OF CROWNING THEIR CHOSEN LIEGE. COME ONE, COME ALL.”

Henry let out a inhuman noise, “JOUSTING!!!!” before making a mad dash into the stands, joining a pack of other enthusiastic kids to the front seats. Emma shook her head with a smile but followed her son, planning on sitting in the back.

But Henry shouted, “Mom come on! I saved you a seat!!” patting the vacant spot next to him, eagerly.

“Oh I guess we aren’t that important are we?” muttered David, but Emma could tell he was smiling.

“I’ll meet you guys after, ok?” she called over her shoulder as she moved around to the front.

Settling herself next to Henry, she let his buzzing excitement and happy chatter wash over her. The seats were still filling so she just let her mind focus on the sensory input. Keeping her thoughts from wandering.

Until she heard Henry's tone change.

“Mom?”

She looked at him just as a loud trumpet blast announced the start of the show.

“You know that you are the best mom ever and I love you right?”

Her heart clenched and she pulled him into a hug.

“Happy birthday kid.”

She held him to her side, her head resting on his mop of brown hair as the two “knights” rode out on horses, raising a cheer as they galloped past the grandstand. Each knight had a massive jousting spear.

One knight was riding a molted brown horse, his armor glinting brightly in the sun. His shield was decorated with a black drawn bow on a white field. His clothes were also white, and he almost hurt to look at when he rode into the direct sunlight. The other knight was riding a pure black charger, his armor and clothing black. Upon his shield was a simple golden crown on a black field.

Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the contrivance- a white knight versus a black knight? Seriously?

But as the knight in black made his way around the pitch, Emma couldn’t help but let her eyes be drawn to him. He seemed to wear the armor like it was a part of him, shoulders back and broad, his body moving fluidly with the motions of the trotting horse, hips rolling in an easy glide that had her wondering if he rode everything that smoothly.

As he was riding past where she and Henry were sitting, his helmet turned to view the crowd. And for some reason, Emma felt like he was looking at her. But that was just silly.

Once the moment passed, the horses jockied up to their starting positions, and after anther fanfare of trumpets, the joust began. Henry pulled away to sit forward to eagerly watch the match.

Both riders urged their horses forward, leveling their lances at their opponent. Emma was amazed at how steady the Black rider held his spear, and she couldn’t help but wince internally at her mental innuendo.

The two horses thundered past each other, the White rider’s spear shattering on impact with the Black knights shield. The black Knight’s lance landed squarely in the other’s shield, throwing the man bodily from his horse, dirt covering the pristine white of his clothes.

The man tumbled before dramatically getting to his feet, tossing aside the splintered remains of his spear and drawing his sword. The Black rider had made it to the far end of the pitch and reeled his horse around.

The horse reared up as it turned, and Emma watched in awe as the man easily stayed astride the animal until it had dropped back to all four feet. Once the horse had settled, he swung his leg over the beast’s back and dropped to the ground, drawing his own sword as he did.

Emma could not help but shift slightly in her seat as she watched the Black Knight close in on his foe and engage. It was almost like watching a dance as the two men twirled around each other, swords clashing, the sharp contact of the metal ringing around the pitch.

Emma was aware that the whole combat was probably staged but she couldn’t help but lean forward, rooting silently for the Black Knight as the two men maneuvered around each to her. Her eyes traced the flowing lines of his body as he moved with grace and precision, her body telling her that he could clearly handle any sword that well.

The men traded blows for almost a full five minutes, both slowing as time passed, clearly worn down from the length of the fight until the two men were standing almost directly in front of them. Henry was falling out of his seat in wonder, and Emma was just as enthralled.They both watched, enraptured, as the Black Knight suddenly unleashed a flurry of wicked fast, powerful strokes that finally disarmed the other knight.

Emma couldn’t help but join Henry in letting out a whoop of victory as the Black Knight raised his sword to the crowd, acknowledging the cheers before giving a low bow. When he straightened, Emma could see his armor shifting with each panting breath he took.

“The champion will now name his liege!!!!” the announcer shouted. Immediately the crowd roared, everybody desperately shouting to the Black Knight to pick them. Emma was proud to say that she managed to restrain herself from shouting, but she couldn't help but get caught up in the crowd and lean forward trying to catch his eye, biting her lip at her own ridiculousness.

The Knight made a show of walking along the stands, looking over the crowd, before he began to pace back toward where she and Henry were sitting. Emma felt her heart flutter a bit, but she tried to hide her sudden nerves by resting her hands on Henry’s shoulders, keeping him from leaping to the fence to beg the knight to pick him.

Finally, the knight stopped before them, clearly looking at her, before he offered an armored hand to her over the fence. She turned pink but reached a shaky hand out towards him as well, resting her fingers in palm. He gently closed his fingers around hers and brought the back of her hand to his lips, or where his lips would be if he’d removed his helmet.

“My lady,” he spoke lowly, and Emma felt her insides quiver at the gravel in his voice, reluctantly bringing her hand back after he released it. But then she was awed when he turned to Henry and dropped down on one knee before him.

“My Liege.”

Henry looked like he was going to burst as he stared down at the kneeling man, turning to look up at Emma to figure out what to do. Emma just sent him a beaming smile, pride for her son welling up in her.

The the announcer shouted, “And the knight has chosen his liege.”

The Black Knight stood from where he knelt, bowing to Henry, turning and giving Emma a bow as well, before he went to fetch his horse, swinging back up into the saddle with ease. Emma licked her lips as she watched him ride into the hidden preparation area, and as she did she managed to catch him turning to glance back at her one more time.

And then it was over. The crowd began to clear and Emma and Henry found their way back to Mary Margaret and David.

When they got to David, he bowed lowly, “My Liege!”

Herny laughed and smacked David’s shoulder but Emma could tell that he really liked it. And then Mary Margaret had to open her mouth.

“Henry! You need a crown now!”

Henry’s eyes lit up, “You think!”

Mary Margaret nodded emphatically, “Yeah! David and I haven’t given you a gift yet! I saw a really nice crown shop when we were walking over here. It’ll be your birthday gift from us, my Liege.”

Henry threw his arms around Mary Margaret in a bear hug, saying, “THANK YOU SO MUCH!” before he dashed off.

“Henry, wait for us!” Emma called, before she turned to glare at Mary Margaret. “I hate you.”

Mary Margaret just nodded. “Yeah, I am sure you do.”

“Why do you hate my wife?” David asked as they made their way to where Henry was bouncing on his toes, willing them to walk more quickly.

“Because she cannot keep her sticky paws out of my business.”

“Ah ok,” he nodded, wisely letting the matter drop. “Well since we are headed out, what’s gonna be the plan for dinner? Did Henry want to go somewhere specific?”

Emma shrugged, “Honestly I don’t know. He hasn’t really been capable of thinking beyond coming to this thing.”

David nodded, “Ok, we’ll play it by ear then.” By then, they’d reached Henry, who immediately engaged David in conversation about the fight.

Mary Margaret hung back with Emma.

“Well, maybe not by ear but we’ll certainly play it by something won’t we, Emma?”

Emma almost tripped.

They managed to make good time back to the beginning of the Faire, and before Emma was entirely prepared for it, _The Jolly Roger’s Hold_ was back in sight. Emma started to drag her feet, letting David and Henry get farther and farther ahead of her while next to her Mary Margaret let out a sigh.

“Really Emma? You are going to let one hot guy scare you away from spending the time with Henry? If it really wasn’t that big a deal, then you should be able to go in there and throw his flirting back in his face, right?”

Emma knew immediately what Mary Margaret was doing. She may as well have added “I double dog dare you” to the end of her statement. But damn if it didn’t brush at the chip on her shoulder. So Emma sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders, nodding at Mary Margaret and marching the rest of the way to the tent. She could almost swear she heard Mary Margaret give a laugh behind her.

When she got to the entrance though she stopped up short again a the sight of Henry standing solemnly, facing in her direction, a black-haired figure adorned in black armor facing away from her, presenting her son with a magnificent golden crown set with green crystals.

She managed to whip out her phone and got a picture as she heard the figure say, “My Liege,” before standing to place the crown on her son’s head. Then Henry caught sight of Emma behind the man.

“MOM LOOK AT ME!”

Emma smiled widely at her son as she slipped her phone back in her pocket. Henry looked radiant. He even seemed to look taller, as if the crown had lent an air of majesty to him.

“You look very dashing, my prince,” she said as he bounced up to her. He was beaming and she reached out to cup his face, and they paused for a moment, before Henry caught sight of Mary Margaret.

“Mary Margaret, LOOK!”

He moved passed Emma and that’s when Emma remembered the Black Knight was standing there. She was suddenly overwhelmed with an almost school girl shyness, stepping forward towards him.

She cleared her throat, “Um, you may not remember me, but, um, I was the woman standing next to Henry. You um, you fought really well.”

The figure seemed to freeze up, standing silent for a moment, and Emma was worried she’d somehow embarrassed or offended him.

But then he sucked in a breath, and she watched his shoulder shift under the armor, “My thanks my lady. And of course I-”

“JONES WHAT IN BLEEDING HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!”

The Black Knight flinched, the pointed ear she could see turning bright red, before the White Knight, carrying his helmet, stormed into the tent towards the Black Knight.

“YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!”

The Black Knight reached a hand up to scratch at his neck as he turned to face his accuser, and Emma was brought up short. It was the blue-eyed guy from the morning. The one who had tried to sell the crown to her.

His eyes flicked over to her but quickly refocused on the man before him, who came to a fuming stop a few feet away.

“Aye sorry Rob. I don’t know what came over me.”

“What the hell does that mean Jones? We practiced for days! And performed it perfectly yesterday!”

The Black knight, whose last name she gathered was Jones, made a shushing movement toward the man, “Hush up Rob. Not so loud.”

The man, Rob, opened his mouth, probably to shout again, when he seemed to realize the wisdom of Jones’s suggestion and tempered his voice. “Killian, I’m sorry for yelling, but why would you throw away all our practice?”

Killian just sighed, eyes flicking back over at Emma, “I’m sorry Robin.I guess I just really wanted to win for once, I guess.”

Robin looked at Killian with narrowed eyes, before he scoffed quietly. “Right, sure,” before he turned, shaking his head, leaving the tent. And Emma came to a sudden realization. Killian had known who she was before the battle had started. He had gone off script to win. And she had a suspicion that it was so he could impress her.

The man before her was still dressed in the imposing armor, but his face was flushed crimson as he looked anywhere but her. And she came to the clinching realization. He’d never intended her to find out who he was.

_You DO deserve to be happy._

She decided. She turned abruptly, marching over to Mary Margaret, who took one look at her face, diverted Henry’s attention to David, and came over to her with a raised eyebrow.

Emma sucked in a breath, “Would it make me a horrible mother if I asked you-”

“No.”

Mary Margaret’s answer was firm and unyielding. Her gaze was steady as she put a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I understand that you always want to put Henry first. But we are here. We can help. You aren’t being irresponsible or impulsive. Go. Let us take Henry. It’ll be ok. I promise.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes were so sincere that the guilt that had already begun welling up in her was dispelled. Emma nodded.

“I’ll leave David to you, then?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “I do expect all the details at girls night, though. So you and Ruby can put that stupid list away for once.”

With that, Mary Margaret turned and headed back toward the boys. David glanced up, and she could actually feel him pull the information he wanted out of her with his eyes, an eyebrow going up before he made a disgusted face. And like the mature person she was, Emma stuck out her tongue before she turned away, sucking in a deep breath.

She marched back into the tent. She found him gently pulling _her_ crown out of a woman’s hands, even as she batted her eyes at him and simpered.

“I’m sorry lass, but I’m holding that for someone.”

He turned toward her, looking down at the crown with a mournful expression, not even paying attention to the woman who was clearly still trying to keep his _attention._ He kept moving, walking right past her without really noticing. She watched as he made his way towards the back of the tent, stepping behind a flap.

Emma waited to see if he’d reappear, but when he didn’t she decided. Making sure no one saw her, she ducked behind the flap as well. She was surprised to see that she was back outside and about fifteen feet from the back of the market tent was a second, much smaller tent.

She made her way to it and silently pulled the flap aside.

Killian was sitting on the edge of a cot, still in full armor, staring at the crown in his hands, his thumb lightly caressing the curve.

Her brain supplied her with a delightful image of that thumb caressing something else that had her suppressing a shiver. She took another steadying breath.

“Is it still possible to try it on?”

His back snapped straight at her voice jerking around to stare at her with disbelieving eyes. For a moment, he was silent. Then he licked his lips.

“Uh, aye lass. After all, ’twas clearly meant for you.”

Emma flushed but stepped completely into the tent as he stood. He walked toward her carefully, almost as if he didn’t believe that she was there.

But when he was only a few inches away, he stared at her, a hunger overtaking his amazement deep in his eyes.

“May I, my lady?” he asked quietly. Her heartbeat picked up as she dipped her head.

“You may.”

A tiny smile tilted his lips and made his eyes crinkle, before he licked his lips again and nodded slightly, as if to encourage himself. Then he stepped around her, taking up position behind her.

As his body moved, she caught sight herself reflected in a full length mirror in the corner. She watched as he stepped behind her, lifting the crown high above her head, before slowly lowering the crown onto her hair. As the weight settled on her head, she watched as his eyes sought out hers in the mirror.

“Perfect,” he breathed.

Then, keeping his eyes locked on hers in the mirror, he slowly began to slide his hands down her head, her neck, her shoulders. When she gave no sign that she wanted him to stop, he closed his eyes and leaned forward. Watching him bury his face in her neck as she felt him breathe deeply against her skin sent shivers down her spine.

His hands slid further, brushing down her arms, before they slowly moved around her front, beginning to brush back upward. She watch and felt him move his chin to clear some of her hair away from her neck before pressing a hot kiss just behind her ear.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips without her permission, but it seemed to be what he was looking for. Because a moment later, his fingers found the top of her corset, slipping under the fabric of her dress to lightly brush the exposed skin that was being supported by the wire frame.

His fingers were coarse but gentle and she didn’t even try to stop the near silent moan that escaped her throat at the feeling.

She felt, more than heard, a dark chuckle dance across her skin. He pulled his head back to meet her eye in the mirror again, before he slowly slid his hands to the first of the clasps on her corset. She swayed back, pressing herself into his armor as his hands slid to the next clasp.

She wasn’t a kinky person by any stretch. But watching Killian’s face and focus in the mirror was quickly working her up. She was practically panting by the time he had released the last clasp of her corset.

She sucked in a deep breath, her first since she put the damn thing on. He let it fall to her feet in favor of running his hands up her now only linen clad belly, before he started to palm her breast, moaning quietly as he began to knead them.

Her eyes closed for a moment as she let her head fall back to rest against his breastplate. But after a few moments, she got bored, so she brought her hands up to still his. His eyes met hers in the mirror, concern flashing in his eyes.

She couldn’t have that. She released his hands only long enough to spin around, catching them as they started to fall back to his sides, his head already lowered in despair. But when her hands found his again, his head jerked back up, disappointment replaced with wonder.

She studied his face for a moment, before she released his hand in favor of bringing it up to cup his face, his stubble prickling at her palm and tickling her thumb as she caressed his cheek.

His eyes flicked back and forth between her own, a tentative smile bringing that dimple back.

“May I help my champion remove his armor?”

She was actually able to watch his pupils dilate as he registered her question.

“It would be my greatest pleasure, my queen.” A smile tugged at one side of her lips as he stepped around her, keeping one hand as he tugged her over to the bed.

Quietly, he whispered where to find the clasps and buckles to remove the pieces of metal that shielded his body from her. Slowly, as each piece got placed gently on the fur covered floor, she was able to see his sweat soaked form. The white linen shirt he had been wearing earlier was soaked through, clinging to his skin. The semi-transparent fabric did nothing but accentuate his shoulders and sheer stomach.

It was as she was kneeling at his feet, removing his final piece of armor, that the slow simmer of tension finally gave way.... Because in her position, she was eye to eye with the laces on his pants.

She licked her lips before reaching to start to undo them. But before her fingers could make it to their intended destination, he caught her hands by the wrists. She felt a wash of rejection before she heard a quiet chuckle from above her, his thumbs rubbing her skin.

“I appreciate the sentiment love, but after half a day in armor, you might find that particular fruit a wee bit ripe.”

She looked up at him to see an warm, albeit embarrassed, smile gracing his features. He gave a tug on her wrists that she followed willingly, getting to her feet to stand in front of him. He dropped her wrists to bring his hands up to cup her face.

“May I kiss you, my queen?”

Emma’s eyes fluttered as his voice washed over her and she gave a weak nod. His fingers applied the lightest pressure to her jaw, drawing her lips to his.

The kiss was slow and tentative. Both of them were trying to figure out if the other was completely on board with what was obviously happening.

And as the kiss lengthened and they both found the answer in the sensation of the other person’s lips, the kiss deepened and began to heat up. Finally Emma had to pull back to suck in a few deep breaths.

“Holy shit.”

His laughter started out as  quiet huff but slowly built into a full bellied laugh. It was a delightful sound. His head was tossed back and his shoulders heaved in amusement, hands falling from her face to clutch at his chest. She couldn't help the giggle herself after a moment.

After a time, his laughter slowly subsided.

“Gods, but you are a wonder love.”

Emma blushed furiously as she muttered, “Yeah well you aren’t so bad yourself.”

His eyebrow popped up up. A slow smile crept up his face as his back seemed to straighten further, his hips and shoulders settling into a casual sort of power pose as a hand came up to hook into his belt.

“Is that so... my queen?”

The way the words rolled off his tongue sent a shiver up her spine and she couldn’t help but lick her lips again.

“Yeah,” she croaked out.

His smile deepened as he stepped forward with a swinging stride. Emma swallowed hard.

He leaned down, keeping his luscious lips just out of reach. “Is that all you can say about me?”

Another shiver rolled down Emma’s spine. She licked her lips again as her eyes flicked down to his.

“S-,” she stuttered. His smirk and eyes softened as his smile turned encouraging. He nodded for her to continue.

“Say it again,” she breathed.

He blinked in surprise, before a wicked smile crept across his face.

“My Queen.”

He imbued the words with such reverence and emotion that she had to close her eyes as the title slid down her spine and settled into her belly.

He took a step forward and she yielded, step by step, until her knees hit the edge of the cot.

“My Queen,” he whispered across her lips before he took one last step forward, forcing her to fall onto the cot.

Her quiet huff seemed to draw him out of his fog.

“Stay put for a moment, my Queen, I’ll be back momentarily,” he murmured.  Then he turned to the small stand and basin. He came back a moment later with a wet rag soaked with soapy water.

Understanding what he wanted, she sat up and held out her hand. He gave her the rag. Slowly, he reached for his laces and began undoing them. Once he had undone the laces, he stepped back to shimmy the leather pants down his hips to pool at the top of his boots.

As his pants dropped, he revealed his half hard cock to her hungry gaze. She licked her lips but headed his initial warning. Instead of reaching for him with her mouth, she carefully began to wipe down his groin and cock with the cloth.

As the cool fabric made contact with his skin, he gave a moan that reached all the way to her clit, making her shift where she was sitting.

She continued to wipe down his cock, savoring the heat she could feel even through the rag until his hand appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her wrist.

“My Queen…” his voice was wrecked.

She heeded his plea and let his cock fall from her hand. She looked up to his face, taking in his heaving chest and half hooded eyes. He looked good enough to eat.

He held her eyes for a long moment, before he clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head hard. When he opened his eyes, he immediately reached down to rip his belt off, hurriedly bending to yank his boots and pants off, then pulling his tunic off, exposing his whole glorious form to her gaze. His dick was just too perfectly positioned to not take advantage of.

He seemed to read her thoughts, because he immediately dropped to his knees, “Perhaps another time, my Queen.” Another shiver sent goose flesh across her skin.

He motioned for her boots, tugging them and her sock from her feet before reaching for the hem of her dress, gathering it up to pull it slowly above her waist. She braced herself on her palms to get the fabric from underneath her ass before raising her hands above her head to allow him to pull the garment completely over her head exposing her completely to his gaze, naked save for the crown on her head.

“Gods above.”

It came out on an exhale, like a knee jerk reaction, and she couldn’t help the warm glow of pride that fed her throbbing arousal at his assessment. Each heart beat heightened the sensation as she felt his eyes rake over her form like a caress.

He sat forward, forcing her slowly backward until she was completely reclined, his body hovering over hers. The intense warmth of the day was nothing compared to the heat that was rolling off of him.

He positioned his knees so he was sitting lightly on her thighs, freeing his hands up to return to their previous caressing. His hands were calloused and felt like heaven dragging across her nipples, his grip firm and sure as he kneaded.

Abruptly, he bent his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue while his hand slid down her belly, finding her own heat.

His fingers dancing across her clit were as perfect as she imagined, the firm rhythm he found setting her hips rocking within moments.

It seemed like almost no time at all before a slow wave of absolute ecstasy washed over her and her back arched up from the cot, hips and breast pushing deeper as her orgasm overtook her.

As her body settled, Killian pulled back, the fingers that had been circling her clit slipping past his lips, the absolute enjoyment on his face making her moan quietly as his eyes slipped shut. She could tell that his tongue was trying to wring every last drop of flavor from his fingers.

His whole being seemed to slow, until it seems as if his body was frozen in place. Then his eyes opened as he yanked his fingers out of his mouth, a harsh breath slipping from his clenched teeth.

He lunged forward a moment later, forcing her body completely flat. His chest hair rubbed against her nipples and down her belly, a sensation so unfamiliar to her, that her cunt clenched in a small orgasm.

He didn’t seem to realize the wash of pleasure passing through her body through, for the next moment, his hand was guiding his now fully erect member between her soaking lips. When he maneuvered the tip of his cock inside her, a tiny tip of her hips as she rode out the orgasm had him sliding all the way into her as her muscles clenched around him.

“Oh god my Queen.” The words seemed as though they had been dragged out from the very depths of his soul, his jaw clenched shut and eyes fluttering as he tried to withstand the sensation of her orgasm washing over him.

Once her muscles settled, he relaxed slightly, his rigid member still throbbing within her.

“Please Killian move,” she whispered to him. She felt a shiver roll down his spine and his head dropped to the crook of her neck as his hips slowly began rolling into hers.

“My- uhhggg- my queen. I don’t- oh gods- I don’t know your- FUCK!- I your name,” he panted against her neck.

It took her a moment register his words, as he continued to roll his hips into her. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but notice that her assessment of the smoothness of his ride and his handling of his sword back on the jousting pitch had been correct. He damn well knew how to handle his _sword_.

“Hush, my Queen,” he whispered, making her pussy clench around him at his words. A groan slipped past his lips and his hips stuttered for just a moment before he slammed home with even greater force.

Another gasp slipped past her lips and he pressed his mouth to hers to catch the sound. The force of his kiss awakened her hunger tenfold, and she reached up to claw at his shoulders, the firm flesh giving her a perfect grip to yank his body closer to her own, her legs wrapping around his thighs to match his eager thrusts.

The slide of his cock within her seemed to brush and caress muscles she didn't know she had, and in practically no time at all, she felt the slow tide of her orgasm licking at her insides.

He seemed to feel the same way, because each snap of his hips carried more force than the one before it, setting every muscle trembling.

“Please, my Queen- oh bloody fucking hell- please, your name,” he gasped out. She could feel his whole body shake above her.

“Eh- eh- eh-” each snap of his hips seemed to drive all the air from her lungs. Then he slid his hand down to rub at her clit.

“EMMA!” she screamed the answer to his question into his lips, nails digging into his skin as she used anything that wasn’t melting in pleasure to pull him closer and pull her pleasure deeper.

“Oh fuck, Emma, my Queeeeeeeen,” he grunted out, his hot breath the only thing she could register as one of the most intense orgasms of her life washed over her. A moment later, he gave one more violent thrust before she felt his release pulse within her.

He collapsed on top of her, the heat of the day nothing compared to the waves rolling off his body and his weight pressing her into the cot, grounding and steadying her.

As her thoughts slowly collected themselves, she was absolutely certain that this time ti would be different.

It took almost five minutes for Killian to take a deeper, more steady breath, pushing himself up. He looked down at her, shifting to reach a hand that she only just now noticed had scars tracing up his wrist , to reposition the crown on her head.

Once it was straightened upon her head, he brought his fingers down to caress her cheek, a quiet, “Oh my Queen,” escaping his lips.

And at his words she couldn’t help the quiet laugh, answering the question it kindled in his eyes.

“I’m definitely buying the crown.”


End file.
